No One Remembers
by Gurly HR
Summary: Canada has had enough of people forgetting him. They just don't care, do they? He's ready to take his own life, but when a certain loud-mouthed Italian sees him sitting by himself, will he save his new friend from falling by his own hand? OOC-ness Rated T: For Language, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Yaoi
1. Chapter 1

_(Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia._

_Warnings: OOC-ness, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Yaoi_

_**A/N: This will probably be sad. I don't know how many chapters this will be, but I hope you enjoy.**_

_**This will be a Romanada or RomaCan Fic.)**_

Matthew had had _**enough.**_

He was **sick **and **tired** of people forgetting him.

His own fucking brother would forget him, the one who raised him would forget him, and the other countries would forget him.

Because no one even fucking bothered to think of the quiet blond.

And he had had enough.

Because, damn it, he was a country, too.

He **fought** in wars.

He **fought** in the French and Indian War.

He **fought** in the War of 1812.

He **fought** in World War 1.

He **fought** in World War 2.

And damn it, no one remembered his big help for the Allies that helped take down the Axis.

No one fucking _**remembered.**_

Usually, that wouldn't make him so angry or sad.

It was just the fact that they did not even bother to _**try**_ to remember him.

**That's** what hurt the most.

That Romano, England, Prussia, Germany, or even his own fucking _**brother**_ America wouldn't remember him.

He just wanted to be **seen.**

He wanted to be **heard.**

Because, damn it, he was living and breathing just like _**them.**_

_He_ was there for America when his brother would cry.

_He_ helped England in the War for 1812.

_He_ stayed loyal to France in the French and Indian War.

_He _supplied all the Allies in World War 1 and 2.

And you know what?

They didn't fucking remember him.

Did not even _**try.**_

And it _**hurt.**_

He had feelings and when Romano and Italy would pass him and say nothing, it would make him sad.

His thoughts would be running.

_What if they don't care?_

_What if they hate me?_

_What if?_

_What if?_

_What if?_ He would always ask himself.

And now, he knew the answers.

_They_ don't care.

_They_ do hate him.

And he was ready to take his own life.

T-They won't care.

He'll die peacefully.

He'll leave this world happily.

They won't know that Matthew Canada Williams ever existed.

Well, that's what he thought until a certain loud mouthed Italian decided to help his little problem.


	2. Chapter 2

_**(Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**_

_**A/N: 'Sup? Sorry for leaving you guys alone for a long fucking time. School and work are dicks, y'know? Well, I hope you enjoy this and what ever.)**_

Canada slowly dragged himself to the door of the meeting room. Sighing and putting on a face of determination, but bust open the doors and walked in. The loud bang of the doors went unnoticed, and he sighed at his failure attempt at getting their attention.

_They never pay attention anyways_ He thought bitterly.

Canada glanced at his seat where the happy-go-lucky Italian and his boyfriend America sat happily. Next to them were France and England who were fighting and arguing.

_Those hosers'_ Canada yelled in his mind. He glared daggers at his brother. _He didn't even save my seat!_

Taking a deep breath and composing himself, he walked towards the end of the table and settled down his stuff, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes peacefully.

He waited for the meeting to start, but felt oddly strange.

Opening his eyes, he watched as the tall Russian nation walked into the room, happily grabbing the seat next to Canada.

Canada grimaced. He was not going to sit there, was he?

_Oh, great _Canada thought, rolling his eyes. _Just what I need. A stupid Russia sitting next to me-_

Before Russia could sit down, the door slammed open to loud cussing.

"Tomato bastard! Stop making out with the potato bastard number two and get your dumb ass in the meeting room!"

"But, Lovi~! I love Prussia so much!"

"Does it look like I give a fuck? Get inside!"

"Prussia's going to come too, mi amor~!"

"He's not even a country!"

"So?"

Canada turned his attention to the door where an angry Italian stomped in; following him was Spain and Prussia, who were holding hands and grinning at each other like idiots.

Spain and Prussia took their seats, and Romano glared at Russia. "Oi! Vodka bastard!" He growled. "Get outta my seat! That's where I sit!"

For a moment, Canada could see Romano look at him for a moment. It only lasts a few seconds before he looked at the Russian nation get up to take a seat in which Canada was sitting in.

Canada grimaced as he waited for the heavy nation to sit upon him.

Before Russia could sit on Canada, Romano growled and pointed at the seat in between China and Japan.

"Don't sit in that seat." Romano pointed at the seat Canada was sitting in. "That seat is taken."

Everyone exchanged looks before looking at the empty seat, and then back at the angry southern half of Italy.

Russia, who was annoyed and angry at being told what to do, stomped off to sit in between China and Japan.

Canada watched with pity as Russia 'kolkolkol'ed while Japan shifted in his seat, growing pale. China did the same, but did not pay as much attention to the tall nation as Japan did.

"Everyone, take your seats. The meeting shall start," Germany said, gesturing for Italy to start the meeting.

"Ve~!" Italy raised an eyebrow. "Sit down, Romano! The meeting is starting~!" He said, smiling happily as America took his hand.

Romano glared at his brother. "Damn you," He muttered. He crossed his arms and sat in the seat next to Canada.

Romano let his eyes wander to the silent and unknown nation as Canada took notes on a piece of paper.

Romano snorted. What kind of notes could this nation take when all his brother was going on about was pasta?

Getting curious, Romano looked at the notes in the note book. He was bewildered at what he saw.

The notes read:

_Another day of getting forgotten_ It read. _I'm getting ready to cut myself 'til I hit a vein. The only thing keeping me from doing that is America, France, and England. They'd be guilty and said if they knew what I wanted to do._

Romano normally could care less if a nation wanted to kill itself.

_Let the bastard do it_ Romano would always think. _If that's what they truly want._

Romano, however, could see that this nation was truly in pain.

Canada had dark rings under his eyes and he could tell the nation was skinnier than any of the other nations.

Romano had never seen this nation, nor did he know his name.

Romano mentally slapped himself. _You don't even know who he is!_ He yelled to himself. _Why all the sudden are you so concerned for this bastard?!_

Canada bit his lip, and noticed that the angry Italian was staring at him.

The Canadian man tilted his head.

He was pretty sure Romano could see him. He mentally did a happy dance. Someone could see him!

The loud mouthed Italian saw a wide smile spread across the Canadian's face.

Romano's cheeks burned. He turned away and scowled.

A few minutes went by, and then an hour went by when the meeting ended.

Germany sighed. "Thank you, Italy, for your concern about pasta..." He muttered, grabbing his papers and suitcase.

"You're welcome, Germany, ve~!" He said, as America kissed him on the cheek and tightly embraced him.

"Dude, I thought your ideas were freakin' awesome!" America exclaimed, as Italy giggled. "But, it needs more heroes."

Romano watched as Prussia and Spain approached him.

Ew.

They were holding hands. Scowling, he ignored them and continued to walk out.

Canada hurried after the Italian. He grabbed his wrist and watched as Romano stiffened.

"T-Thank you for not letting Russia sit on me," Romano heard the soft voice say. He had to strain his ears to hear what the nation had said.

Romano glared daggers at Canada. "It's nothing," He said. "I just didn't want that stupid vodka bastard sitting next to me."

Canada bit his lip and blushed. This man had oddly made him shy. Maybe it was his accent? "I'm Canada..." The nation introduced, smiling warmly at Romano.

Romano glared at him. "Like I fucking care," He said, rolling his eyes and yanking his hand away from Canada. "I didn't ask for your name," He said, before hurrying off.

Canada's hand was still in the air. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Sighing, he walked out.

Romano took in a deep breath as he was driving. He could not help the guilt that managed to bother him so much right now. "Just ignore it!" Romano yelled. "If no one saw him, he was probably a figment of your imagination!" Romano suddenly came to the conclusion: "Oh, fucking hell, what if I'm turning into the scone bastard!"

Later, Canada watched as the red liquid trinkled down his wrist and fell to the floor. He smiled to himself.

The physical pain got rid of the emotional pain.

He cleared his throat, but it did no good as he began to sob.

He broke his promise to America.


End file.
